Chances
by tswheaton
Summary: Dorothy can't wait til the end of her shift, so she can have some fun with a special package waiting in her locker, but the strange little man on table 3 has taken an unusual interest in her...


Chances  
by  
Travis Scott Wheaton  
11 January 1996

Dorothy picked up the glasses and gave the white specked laminate tabletop a quick wipe over with her cloth. It was a slow night. A few customers, but none ordering very much. Still, she didn't mind; it just meant less work for her to do. She hated waiting tables. Once she'd finally been kicked out of school though, she'd had little else choice. Her shift was nearly over anyway, then she could forget this place, at least til the day after tomorrow.

As she took the glasses out to the kitchen, she saw that strange little man at table three still staring at her. He'd walked in over two hours ago, ordered a lemonade, and sat staring at it ever since. It, and her. She wasn't 100% sure, but she was fairly certain she could tell when a guy was staring at her, and that was exactly what he was doing out of the corner of his eye, when he thought she wasn't looking.

For over six months she had been waiting tables at the Vale Hill Café. Her parents wanted her to take a typing course, or try going back to school; perhaps a private one out of town. She liked the out of town part, but not for school. She wanted to get out of Perivale, see the world, live a little. She had tried to save her money, but each time she built up a small amount of savings she would squander them all.

The little man still sat staring apparently into his drink. For some reason, every time her eyes met with his, like when she'd taken his order, she felt as though she knew him; as though he held some integral part in her life. She couldn't explain it as she knew she had never set eyes on him before this night.

Ned looked at her suspiciously as she stood staring into the distance whilst hovering over the sink. He could see her through the small window between the counter and the kitchen. She pretended to wash a few dishes until she knew he was looking away again, and then stopped. Ned Finnelley wasn't the most unfair boss she'd ever known, but he was one of the strictest.

Deciding she needed a breath of fresh air, she took the half full garbage bag out the back door, to the alley outside. Making sure the door closed behind her, she stood and looked up at the night sky. "That's where I belong," she thought to herself. "Not here; not anywhere here, but up there..." She smiled at the thought. It all seemed so perfectly logical - Why she felt so out of place, why she was always the outsider. She didn't belong here, she belonged some place else.

Dropping the bag into the dumpster, she sat on the staircase leading up to the flat above the café. She could picture Ned getting angry trying to find her, having to serve the bloody customers himself. Her lips curled into a smile.

In the café, the little man was fidgeting. He had kept his composure for over two hours, but now he was starting to lose his calm. He played with the sugar pot, spooning the sugar around in circles. His eyes kept darting back to the small window into the kitchen, where he could see the back door of the building, and anyone who may pass through it.

Looking at her watch, Dorothy saw she only had another five minutes left until her shift finished. Almost feeling guilty at having done nothing for the past ten minutes, she returned to the kitchen. Ned immediately set upon her.

"Where've you been?" he asked her as he walked through the door into the kitchen, in a quiet but fierce voice.

"I was just - " she tried to tell him, her own voice empty.

"I don't pay you to slack off. I pay you to work," he continued.

She looked at him in her special manner reserved for these confrontations. "I'm sorry," she said. They both knew she wasn't. She was already thinking of what she'd acquired just before coming to work. It should provide lots of fun later on tonight, she was thinking. A real bang! A real loud bang! She had been interested in explosives since she was a little kid, and she had found an unexploded shell from WWII in some bushes on Parley Hill. There was something about creating loud, destructive explosions which excited her. It was what had finally seen her expelled from school. Cherry bombs down toilets wasn't enough for her; she blew up the whole Art Room!

Ned looked at his watch, and then at her. His eyes narrowed as he stared at her. "Go. Go on. But get in here ten minutes early tomorrow!"

Her face lit up and she threw her apron at him as she rushed over to the small pigeon hole behind the door where she kept her things. She carefully withdrew the small parcel bound in newspaper and hugged it safely under her arm. Giving Ned a quick wave, she left the kitchen.

As soon as she entered the main room of the café she noticed that table 3 was now the only customer. He had looked up as she emerged from the kitchen, followed her with his eyes as she made for the main entrance. She wondered fleetingly if he was some kind of lunatic, but her mind soon flitted to her parcel, and what fun she was going to have with it very shortly.

The man sitting at table 3 stood quickly, hurriedly dropped a few coins on his table, and followed Dorothy out of the café. As he stepped onto the sidewalk, he chased after her, calling out to grab her attention. "Excuse me. I realise you don't know me, but I really must talk with you for a moment," he said to her.

Still moving, but half turning her head in his direction, she gave him one of her least accommodating smiles. "You're right. I don't know you. So why don't you just leave me alone?"

He was undaunted by her response, and continued to follow her. "It's just, there's something very important I have to tell you."

"Look," she yelled over her shoulder at him, "I'm not interested, okay? Bog off!"

"Dorothy! Listen to me!"

She stopped dead in her tracks. He caught up with her and met her steely gaze. "How do you know my name?" she asked him in a deadly serious tone.

Despite her stare, he momentarily looked up at the night sky. When he looked back at her, he could see she was frightened. "I really think you should give that parcel to me." His voice was firm, yet deeply caring; her eyes held captive by his inner-resolve.

"Why." Her voice held a hard edge, yet it was somehow weakened by her own confusion.

"It was never meant for your hands. It belongs to someone else." He held out his hand for it. "I'll make sure it's rightful owner gets it back."

She listened to his voice, and somehow couldn't doubt it. She couldn't argue against it. "Who does it belong to?"

"You..."

Three hours later Dorothy sat drinking. She was on the roof of her house, staring up at all the little stars twinkling down on her. She still wasn't sure what had happened earlier. All she knew was, somehow she had been cheated. She had been cheated out of her real life. Cheated out of the life of excitement and fun that she had so long been seeking. She knew she would never again find such a chance as she had just lost. Now she was doomed to spend the rest of her life on this planet, knowing she really was meant to be some place else, and that instead someone else got that chance she deserved. What made it worse, was that that someone else was her.


End file.
